Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I
was ordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea
and Amphipolis and Delium, remained where they placed me, like any
other man, facing death—if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God
orders me to fulfil the philosopher’s mission of searching into myself
and other men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any
other fear; that would indeed be strange, and I might justly be
arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I
disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death, fancying that I was
wise when I was not wise. For the fear of death is indeed the pretence
of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of knowing the
unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their fear
apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is not
this ignorance of a disgraceful sort, the ignorance which is the
conceit that a man knows what he does not know? And in this respect
only I believe myself to differ from men in general, and may perhaps
claim to be wiser than they are:—that whereas I know but little of the
world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice
and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and
dishonourable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather
than a certain evil. And therefore if you let me go now, and are not
convinced by Anytus, who said that since I had been prosecuted I must
be put to death; (or if not that I ought never to have been prosecuted
at all); and that if I escape now, your sons will all be utterly ruined
by listening to my words—if you say to me, Socrates, this time we will
not mind Anytus, and you shall be let off, but upon one condition, that
you are not to enquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if
you are caught doing so again you shall die;—if this was the condition
on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I honour and
love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life
and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of
philosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet and saying to him after my
manner: You, my friend,—a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city
of Athens,—are you not ashamed of heaping up the greatest amount of
money and honour and reputation, and caring so little about wisdom and
truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard
or heed at all? And if the person with whom I am arguing, says: Yes,
but I do care; then I do not leave him or let him go at once; but I
proceed to interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I
think that he has no virtue in him, but only says that he has, I
reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less.
And I shall repeat the same words to every one whom I meet, young and
old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as
they are my brethren. For know that this is the command of God; and I
believe that no greater good has ever happened in the state than my
service to the God. For I do nothing but go about persuading you all,
old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your
properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest
improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money,
but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, public as
well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which
corrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person. But if any one says that
this is not my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of
Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and
either acquit me or not; but whichever you do, understand that I shall
never alter my ways, not even if I have to die many times.